


The Tale of La Guitarra

by GhostlyMuse



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, La Guitarra AU, The guitar lives, and she has had enough of your crap, for now, guitar spirit, it could hit romance and angst territory eventually if I decide to continue, trash guitar daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostlyMuse/pseuds/GhostlyMuse
Summary: The story of the Rivera family is a long one, but many forget the part played by a guitar. One that brought love to a family, suffered tragedy, and was taken from the people she loved most. The spirit of the skull guitar, La Guitarra, has been around for a while and it’s about time someone heard her side of the story.(ALSO INCLUDES HUMOROUS DOODLES. Will remain a oneshot for now, but hey, if people like it I'll be happy to write (and doodle) more!)





	The Tale of La Guitarra

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this. I had a lot of fun writing and drawing the doodles that go with it. Definitely not my best work, but I've gone over it three times to edit it and it's time for me to slam on down to snoozeville. It's probably gonna be a oneshot, but if I get those sweet validating Internet Points™ that tell me 'Hey, this is actually pretty nice' then heck yeah I'll write some more. 
> 
> Until then, please have fun with my trash guitar child.

It was in the small town of Santa Cecilia, in a small shop tucked away in the corner of la plaza, that a lone ray of sunlight slipped through a pair of shutters. The warm glow graced the floor of the shop from the only window, filling the air with the smell of warm earth and wood. Dust motes floated lazily in the sunbeam as it glinted over the polished surfaces of over a dozen guitars. Each hung silently on their pegs against the wall. Quiet, serene, but thrumming with the seed of creativity.

Each one was a work of art, elegant and refined, of beautiful warm colored woods. Paints and carvings decorated their surfaces with everything from marigolds, swirling plant-like patterns, cats, coyotes, peacocks,  _everything_. Promising that the flow of the music that they would one day produce would be as beautiful as the flow of their physical design.

And yet there she hung. A drop of milk in a black sky. La Guitarra.

Gleaming white with abalone inlays, golden finishings, layers of white, grey, and brown. La Guitarra was a work of art and she was aware of this. Painfully aware. But as the sunlight chased away any chills in her frets, the guitar’s spirit woke to another day.

“Today is the day, girls! It’s gonna-” La Guitarra paused as she interrupted herself with a yawn. “‘S gonna be today!”

With that, the form of a lanky skeletal woman reached and stretched out of the surface of the guitar. It didn’t take her long until she was windmilling her arms to try to prevent herself from losing her balance and falling face-forward onto the floor. But like every other time it had happened she ended with her cheek pressed up against a floor mat. A familiar chorus of groans met her as she pushed herself back up and brushed off her white charro suit.

“That’s what you said yesterday, the day before that, and every other day since you were  _made_.”

La Guitarra rolled her eyes and straightened her sombrero, ignoring the other spirit who had just leaned out of their own guitar. The long, snaking peacock neck held a face with a skeptical gaze before it burst out with a flurry of feathers and seated itself on a nearby shelf. All around the other spirits that had been woken from their slumber basked lazily from their places on the wall, only a few deciding to join them.

“Oh, don’t  _discourage_ her!” Came a scolding reply.

To her right, a mass of dancing marigold flowers and petals swirled from the opening of the guitar hanging there and snaked through the air. It circled around her, straightening her suit, fixing her hair, and adjusting the golden bow that rested atop her chest.

“Odds are, it will happen one day so why not today?”

“See? Gracias señorita,” La Guitarra said, puffing out her chest  and planting her hands on her hip bones as she regarded the peacock spirit. “The flower petals knows what she’s talking about. I’m going to get a musician sooner or later and your sorry attitude isn’t going to stop me~”

“Maybe not, but your presentation certainly leaves something to be desired,” the peacock debated flatly.

“Oh, now let’s not start this again-”

“My  _presentation_?” La Guitarra repeated. “I can’t lack anything in presentation because I’ve got it all right here.”

The skeletal spirit struck a pose, glancing in a way that was supposed to be seductively over her shoulder, accompanied by an award-winning smile accented by the flash of a single gold tooth. The peacock met her with a half-lidded gaze and strutted along the shelf they had perched on.

“That, my dear, is exactly what I’m talking about,” the spirit sighed. “And exactly the reason why every time you’ve been lifted up off of your peg you’re put right back on it and never get to make your way out of that door.”

La Guitarra frowned and crossed her arms while the marigold spirit flitted about nervously.

“Enlighten me then,” she said, puckering her lips in distaste.

“Gladly,” the peacock said, a hint of disdain in their voice. “Your problem is that you are too  _showy_. Granted, you can’t help the choices that our father made when he put you together but you can certainly tone your spirit down a bit. Musicians play to share their music. That is what they want people to pay attention to and not have it toned out because they’re too busy paying attention to the instrument itself.”

“Just because I’m ‘showy’ doesn’t mean that I’m not a great guitar,” La Guitarra huffed. “ Besides, this is what’s natural to me. And you’re one to lecture about looks, you big… fluffy… eye feather bird.”

“Yes, but you see, I can save my most important moments for when they really count,” the bird replied as it preened it’s feathers. “You’re a vibrant young spirit, but you’re overwhelming any potential musicians with your energy. They see you as an instrument but a part of them can feel that you’re just clamoring for attention and honestly it’s just too much. You could probably do to tone yourself down into a charming little skull, or some of those elegant swirls, señora.”

“I’m fine just how I am.” La Guitarra said and put her foot down. “I’m keeping my looks and my personality and my charro suit. Pft, you can’t expect to get the part you want if you don’t dress like it.”

“Mmm. Fake it until you make it, I suppose.”

La Guitarra frowned and set her brow as she clumsily climbed onto the pegs that hung her and her fellow guitars. They were incredibly comfortable normally, but right now as a spirit and all bones and angles she was regretting not going back into her body first. But she couldn’t back down now, not when she was trying to make her point.

“You just watch chicken-brain. I’m going to hang here like the good, amazing guitar I am. And I’ll have my musician in no time!” She declared, pointing up at the other spirit. “And if they can’t match my level of personality then that’s just their loss. Right, Petals?”

The swirling breeze of petals and flowers condensed a little further into itself.

“Oh! Uh, well-“

“RIGHT,” La Guitarra said with a nod.

Before any other spirit could get a word in edgewise however, the jiggling of a key in a lock had them all waiting with rapt attention. With the jingling of a bell the door to the shop was pushed open and the shopkeeper shuffled in. La Guitarra’s normal loud greeting of ‘Hello, Papá!’ died before it even came out of her mouth as a man in a crimson charro suit strode in after him.

La Guitarra gave the flowery spirit next to her a wide grin and practically bounced in excitement. Granted, that’s what normally happened when a potential customer walked in, but one had to give her points for enthusiasm at the least. The musician leaned against the counter as the shopkeeper began to get the store open for the day.

“I’ll be right with you, I just need to get a few things in order, first,” the shopkeeper said.

“No problem, muchacho. You still have the one I was looking at yesterday, don’t you?”

“Yes, it’s right over there,”he said, waving his hand towards the general area of the shop where the spirits waited in anticipation. “Just let me grab it for you, uno momento.”

He passed by the rows of guitars, some of the spirits peeking out to look down the line in curiosity. His steps regular but deliberate as the peacock spirit gave La Guitarra a smug look and fluffed their chest feathers as he approached. With a blur of color, the peacock spread its magnificent tail of feathers. The shopkeeper paused for a split second to regard the guitar hanging on the wall and the beautiful craftsmanship that he’d put into every single detail of the feathers of the peacock that adorned its surface. And then he reached out and gripped the neck of the snow white guitar next to it and pulled it from its peg.

La Guitarra’s eyes widened in shock and she slid to the floor when her joints had turned to pudding and couldn’t hold her up to the wall any longer. This was it. THIS WAS IT! This was the day that her life outside began with her very own musician! She could see herself there, her new friend strumming the strings of her guitar and pressing the frets, helping her to find her voice to harmonize with their songs! She could-!

‘Clunk’

She could be put right back onto her peg.

She sat dumbly on the ground and blinked as the shopkeeper took the marigold guitar and shuffled back up to the counter with it.

“This one, señor?”

“Si! That’s the one!”

“I guess that’s me,” the marigold spirit said. “Wow! I mean, I get to go!”

The flurry of petals spun excitedly in place and nearly whipped right up to the front of the shop before freezing in the air. She drifted slowly over to the skeleton and settled around her like a gentle breeze.

“Don’t give up, Guitarra,” she said kindly, tightening up around her in what might be called a hug. “You’ll sing with someone soon. I believe in you.”

La Guitarra closed her eyes and shook her head before looking up to the petals with her normal dazzling smile.

“Give up? Me? Just who do you think you’re talking to?” She asked, brushing herself off and standing. “Now get on out there, before your músico leaves without you. And you’d better sing loud enough for me to hear you from la plaza!”

The swirl of petals pulled back from her and somehow La Guitarra knew that she was giving her a look of concern. But before either could say anything the flowers spun tightly in the air and whipped around her one last time, straightening her suit and her hat before admiring her handiwork.

The bell of the shop rung as the door opened and the spirit shifted in place.

“Well, I’ve got to go! Bye everyone!”

With that, the spirit swirled and zipped through the air and out the door as it swung shut and the crimson suited man left from sight.

The peacock spirit let out a huff.

“Well, not every purchase is accounting taste,” it muttered before flapping its wings and disappearing back into its guitar.

Meanwhile, La Guitarra rubbed the back of her neck and stared forlornly at the piece of paper that had been tucked underneath her strings.

‘Discounted’.

***

For the rest of the day La Guitarra leaned against the wall with her sombrero tilted low over her face. She listened to the footsteps of customers walk in and out, the ding of the bell, and idle conversations. Every now and then when someone came close, she’d try to draw their attention and she did every time. It was hard not to but no matter how many people glanced her way all she ever got was looks.

The sun slipped lower and lower as the hours passed and more sales were made. More guitars gone with their musicians or supplies that they needed to care for them with. The warm ray of light no longer came through the window although it’s afternoon glow leaked into the shop when a customer would come and go. After the start this day had she was ready for it to be over even if it meant one more strike on the calendar for the number of days she’d been on display in the shop.

It was among the sounds of the shopkeeper getting ready to close up for the day that made La Guitarra look up. The ring of a bell and solid click of a high heeled shoe. A woman strode in, her features soft but her expression sharp, her deep black hair pulled back, and spitting a deep purple dress that looked like it would be good to dance in. She was gorgeous.

“Hola, Señora. What can I do for you today?”

“I’m looking to purchase a guitar.”

“Well you’ve come to the right place! Please, take a look around. We are closing very soon.”

“Oh?” The woman responded, her eyes looking each guitar up and down as she went down the line.

“Just for the day of course. We will be open tomorrow.”

“I’ll have my business done today,” she assured although it somehow managed to come off like a threat.

Whoever this lady was, La Guitarra was liking everything she had going on. How did she even do that? Closer and closer she walked with those clicking heels and La Guitarra was ready to put her all into grabbing her attention. It was then that an explosion of feathers fanned out and completely blocked her from view.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The skeleton snapped, trying to shoulder her way past the giant fan of tail feathers to no avail.

“Why, I’m endearing a woman who obviously has some sense of class and taste,” the peacock said, snapping their tail back down.

And now La Guitarra could see that accursed peacock’s guitar resting in the woman’s hands. Her expression remained steely but there was something else to it. An appreciation for the craft as she admired the designs adorning the instrument.

“That is a beautiful one, Señora, it suits you well.”

“I suppose it does,” she agreed. “But I’m not here shopping for myself. I wouldn’t do it justice if I tried. Besides, it’s a little too showy for me.”

And the peacock guitar was put back onto the wall where it had come from. The spirit gawked, feathers fluffed in anger before it flapped and retreated once more. Even if she didn’t find her músico today that would keep her spirits high for a while. La Guitarra wheezed in laughter, doubled over and hugging herself. Maybe in the future that vain excuse for a chicken might keep their beak shut.

Only once she had caught her breath did La Guitarra realize that the woman had been standing in front of her the entire time. She yelped in shock and quickly scrambled to stand all the way up. She had to say something to keep her attention somehow!

“Lady! P-pretty Señora-! I… uh… oh wow. UM.”

_**YOU’RE CHOKING GUITARRA, CHOKING! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!** _

“I WANT TO BE YOU.”

**_Nailed i-WAIT NO!_ **

La Guitarra smiled widely, her arms pinned nervously to her sides as her gaze shifted back and forth.

_**Nailed it.** _

Her gold tooth glinted.

The woman’s eyes focused in on the guitar’s stock. The shape of a skull with a singular golden tooth. A little goofy, really, but a lot of personality. For the first time since she entered the shop, the woman smiled. With a firm but caring grasp she lifted the guitar from its display on the wall. She inspected the designs, turning it over on its side and back to assure there wasn’t any damage, and held it back out again before she appeared satisfied.

The sound of her heels was the only sound in the shop as she made her way to the counter and set the white guitar on its surface.

“I’ll take this one,” she said.

“Ey! This one has been here for a while. I just discounted it today.”

“Really?” She asked, “I hadn’t noticed.”

La Guitarra stood dumbfounded as she watched the woman and the shopkeeper exchange payment. It was really happening… it was actually really happening!

“Well, thank you for your business miss…?”

“Imelda.”

“I hope you have a pleasant rest of your evening.”

Imelda nodded in return and the skull guitar disappeared into its case where it was secured with a solid click. La Guitarra could hardly contain herself, jumping back and forth with a great and loud grito.

“I KNEW IT! You all doubted me but what do you have to say for yourselves, amigos?!” She shouted in victory, shaking her finger accusingly at the rest of the guitars in the shop.

As Imelda left, La Guitarra felt something not unlike a string being pulled in between her shoulder blades. Her link to her physical form, the guitar, tugging her along. The skeleton dug in her heels, leaning back as the connection dragged her across the floor.

“GOOD RIDDANCE, CHICKEN BRAIN. Hey! HEY! Maybe that refinement might get you somewhere someday! AAIIIIIIYYYYYIIIIIII!  I’m going to meet my músico! ADIOS SUCKERS, LA GUITARRA OUT.”

And with the gentle chime of the shop bell, they were gone.


End file.
